Dumb the throats of thunder,
Hushed chromatic skips,
Lacking all the torturing
Of strained finger-tips.

Dusky slaves and pallid,
Ebon slaves and white,
When Minx mounts her music-stool
Neighbours fly with fright.
Ah, the bass's thunder!
Oh, the treble's trips!
Eugh, the horrid tyrannies
Of corned finger-tips!

Silent, silent, silent,
All your janglings now;
Notes false-chorded, slithering slaps,
Pedal-aided row!
Where is Minx, we wonder?
Ah! those scrambling skips!
Back she's come to torture us
With her finger-tips!

* * * * *

CHARLEMAGNE AND I.

_Aix-la-Chapelle, Monday_.--CHARLEMAGNE was doubtless well advised
in selecting this town for his residence. However that be, it is not
a matter for us to dogmatise about. I have heard a lamented friend,